Reborn: Lord of the Undead Dominion

The affairs of the world pass like a shuttle — but during the greatest historical review in our records, we uncovered a shocking truth.

As if guided by something unseen, every ten thousand years a new race rises on the continent of Amelia. They defeat the old overlord, seize the throne of destiny, and become the new rulers of the land.

Giants.

Then the sea folk.

Then the winged clans.

Then the elves…

Like sunrise and sunset, like the movement of the stars, the pattern never changes. Each race rules for about ten thousand years, and the difference never exceeds two hundred — only the speed at which the new race replaces the old.

Looking back over all of history, it feels like a melody written long ago, each note echoing quietly through time.

And among hundreds of thousands of years of history — only one note is out of tune.

“The Protagonist One Hundred Thousand Years Later — Walking Beneath the Wheels of History.”

…

Everything was dark.

Luo Yan felt himself walking through endless night. No cold. No warmth. No feeling at all. He didn’t know who he was or where he was — only that he kept moving.

Then fear hit him. Sudden. Crushing.

The darkness itself terrified him.

He gasped — and his eyes flew open.

Blinding sunlight flooded in. His vision turned white. Before he could adjust, the pain came. Sharp. Splitting. Like his whole body was being torn apart.

He cried out — and then, strangely, the pain faded. It washed away like a tide, leaving behind a cool, soothing comfort, like stepping into a mountain stream on a burning summer day.

What… is happening to me?

That thought barely formed when a soft, anxious voice reached him.

“Son — what’s wrong? A nightmare?”

Luo Yan’s whole body trembled.

That voice.

That gentle, familiar voice.

He turned his head — and saw a young woman rush in, worry on her face.

He froze.

Those eyes — the ones burned into his dreams for over a hundred years — were right in front of him.

Mom.

His body shook. He threw himself into her arms and burst into tears.

He didn’t care why his mother — who had died when he was eleven — was alive again. If this was a dream, he wished it would never end.

Only when you lose something do you realize how precious it truly is.

The pain of that memory hit him all over again.

His mother, confused, patted him down in panic and sighed in relief when she found no injuries.

“Hey now, why are you crying like this? Did you dream something scary?”

His breathing finally steadied. A century of mental training helped him calm down. He wiped his tears, made sure everything felt real, and whispered:

“Mom… I missed you.”

Words buried in his heart for over a hundred years.

His mother just smiled and tapped his forehead.

“Silly boy. You only napped four hours. It’s not like we haven’t seen each other in a hundred years.”

It has been a hundred years.

He shouted inwardly — but she didn’t notice anything wrong.

“Alright, go play. I need to make dinner. Your sister will be home soon.”

But today, Luo Yan refused to leave. He followed her everywhere and insisted on helping. Seeing it was getting late, she simply picked him up and carried him to the kitchen.

Leaning against her, Luo Yan smiled with a happiness he hadn’t felt in a lifetime.

…

Sitting quietly on a small stool by the stove, he finally forced himself to think.

He looked at his tiny hands. At his mother’s busy figure. Even with more than a hundred years of discipline, his heart wavered.

What is going on?

He tried to recall everything.

Waking up.

Breakfast.

Meeting Allen.

Preparing the experiment.

The orc heart.

Then — the blue flame.

Blue flame?!

That should never happen — unless someone secretly added mist vine powder.

And if that happened… it would explode.

His face went pale.

Why? Why would Allen do that?

He pushed the question aside. There would be time for answers later.

Right now, one possibility terrified him more.

Could I… really have been reborn?

…

By afternoon, he had mostly accepted it. Maybe it was absurd, but as a mage — and a necromancer alchemist — absurdity wasn’t new to him.

And honestly, what was there to fear?

He had his family back.

He tried instead to figure out the year — and the moment his sister came home from her first day of school, everything lined up.

Davoma Year 535.

He was five again.

And the tragedy that destroyed their family… had not happened yet.

Thank the God of the Dead.

Another chance.

This time — he would not fail.